Time Heals All Wounds
by bionic4ever
Summary: Is Jaime experiencing time travel....or death?
1. Chapter 1

**Time Heals All Wounds**

Chapter One

"Ok, Honey, take a nice, deep breath and count backwards for me, starting at one hundred," Rudy instructed, eying his groggy patient very closely.

Jaime's body quivered slightly as she inhaled the sickly sweet anesthetic. "One hundred, ninety-nine, ninety-eight..." she felt herself drifting far away from the operating table. "Ninety-seven...ninety...six...ninety...six..."

"She's out, Rudy," the technician said quietly. "Let's find that clot and get it out fast."

Rudy nodded. This was Jaime's second bout with bionic rejection, and it had progressed far more rapidly than the first. It had been less than 8 hours since she'd first noticed an unsteadiness in her hand, and already a dangerous blood clot was threatening her life. Rudy calibrated the drill and said a silent prayer that this time, they wouldn't be too late.

Steve paced nervously in the hallway, ignoring Oscar's suggestion that he sit down and try to relax. It had all happened so suddenly! One minute, he and Jaime were cuddled together on the sofa in Steve's den, sharing popcorn and a movie, and the next, first her hand and then her entire right arm were shaking uncontrollably. Steve had helped her to stretch out and lie down, then immediately got on the phone to Rudy. When he turned around to ask her Rudy's question about whether she was in pain, Jaime's body had gone limp and she didn't respond.

_Jaime heard the voices first, achingly familiar but she just couldn't place them. Curious, she moved toward them, amazed at the way she seemed to float rather than walk in their direction. A young boy, about eight years old, and a girl who looked a few years younger, stood at the grassy edge of a playground. The boy grinned while the girl stood with her arms folded, glaring at him._

_"I did not!" the little boy (who **was **he?) shouted._

_"Yes, you did, too!" his tiny companion insisted. "Give 'em back!"_

_"Why would I wanna touch your stupid doll?"_

_"Gimme back her shoes!" the little girl demanded. Jaime was fascinated; it was as though she was watching the children through a fog, and she **knew** them, but...who were they? They seemed close enough to touch, yet so far away..._

_"Don't have 'em," the boy said tauntingly. _

_The little girl stomped her foot, sending her tiny blonde pigtails sailing across her shoulders. "Do too! Steven Austin, you give them back, or I'll never speak to you again!"_

_**Wha-a-at? **Jaime frowned. Her mind scrambled to make sense of it, but she couldn't clear away the fog._

_"You're still talking," 'Steven' teased. "But I don't hear you!" he finished in a sing-song voice._

_Jaime could only watch as the little girl (herself?) burst into tears and ran blindly away, toward the street...straight toward an oncoming car._

Steve had immediately rushed Jaime to National, where Rudy was waiting. Oscar had arrived before the first tests were completed, and was at Steve's side when he got the soul-crushing news.

"Jaime's in full bionic rejection," Rudy explained, as gently as possible. "They're scanning her brain now, to pinpoint the location of the clot, then we'll take her straight to surgery."

Steve was mute with grief for a few moments before he could bring himself to ask a question. "How bad...?" was all he could choke out.

Rudy shook his head, his expression grim. He knew the devastation his words would cause, but he couldn't lie. "The severity of her illness, the rapidity of its onset – I'm sorry, Steve. We'll do everything we can." The doctor placed a hand on Steve's shoulder, acknowledging his pain, before heading quickly down the hall, back to his patient.

Steve had one last glimpse of Jaime as she was wheeled past him, on the way to the operating room. The attendants lingered just long enough for him to lean over the gurney to kiss her and whisper a few soft, private words of love before they had to speed her away through the big double doors. Now, all Steve could do was wait, pace and pray.

_Jaime couldn't watch, but couldn't look away. The big car's brakes squealed and screeched, and a little girl's scream rang shrill and sharp in the air before cutting suddenly to silence._

_"_There's the clot," Rudy murmured softly. "I see it; it's a big one."

"Rudy, I'm losing her pulse!"

"She's going to rupture; I have to get it now!" Rudy said, more to himself than his assistants.

"Her breathing's erratic," the nurse told him softly. "Rudy, she's -"

"No, dammit! Not this time!" the doctor insisted, as the line on the heart monitor went flat.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

_Jaime moved as quickly as possible (still floating, since her bionics didn't seem to work here), trying to snatch the little girl to safety, but she was too late. At the very moment she reached the catastrophic scene, she felt herself jerked abruptly away, and her vision and awareness faded to black._

"She's back," one of the younger physicians on the team sighed with relief. The high-pitched wail on the heart monitor flipped back to a steady reassuring beep, and the entire team began to breathe a little more easily.

Everyone, that is, except for Rudy. "I've got almost full blockage here," he announced, trying to gently ease the blood clot from its stubborn, threatening position in Jaime's brain. "A little more retraction, please, and have suction ready – she's gonna bleed." He leaned even closer, making sure his angle was perfect, and removed the clot in one fast, skilled motion, leaving behind no added damage. His work was spot-on, but Rudy was barely able to prevent a full hemorrhage. "Get that suction in there _now_ – easy; don't hit the artery. That's good."

Rudy sighed, his body completely tensed and ready as he eyed the monitors. When the blood had been cleared out to his satisfaction, he moved back in to stitch the artery and remove the tiny clamps. Only then did he allow himself to begin to relax.

It didn't last long. "Her pressure's dropping fast!" the assistant noted with alarm. "Respiration's shallow – she's struggling."  
_Don't do this, Jaime, _Rudy pleaded silently.

_Jaime opened her eyes and was startled to see the boy and girl back at the edge of the playground, seemingly starting their quarrel over again. She blinked in confusion, and tried to call out to them, but found she had no voice. Moving fluidly to a spot directly beside them, she placed her hand gently on the little girl's arm. There was no reaction; the girl ('little Jaime'?) appeared not to notice._

_"I did not!" "Yes, you did too!" What the **hell **was happening to her? Jaime closed her eyes and 'saw' herself lying on an operating table with the entire medical team engaged in frantic activity around her. _

_Was she...dead? Jaime couldn't make out the readings on the monitors or hear the team's conversation, but it was obvious from their pace and the expressions in their eyes that things weren't going well. _

_Where, exactly, was she? Heaven? Hell? Was she somehow fated now to watch the miniature version of herself run out in front of that car over and over again? Strange that she didn't feel frightened...only curious. She opened her eyes just in time to see the girl stomp her foot once again and run blindly toward the street. Jaime turned away, unable to bear seeing it a second time, but her mind's eye gave her a vivid picture. The horrible screeching and the scream began to echo even louder than before, when Jaime was abruptly yanked back into the darkness of oblivion._

"Tube her," Rudy instructed, assigning one technician to the sole task of forcing air into Jaime's lungs.

"Pressure's still low," the assistant said urgently, "and it's dropping."

"No sign of spontaneous breathing," the tech added.

"It's another clot," Rudy announced, peering into Jaime's skull with the magnification lens over his eye. A second artery, very close to the first one, had suddenly begun to bulge, threatening to burst. "I need more clamps."

"She's not stable, Rudy," the technician warned. "She's already shocky. It's just too much..."

Rudy shook his head, reading the tech's implications but refusing to give up. With a steady, practiced stroke, he carefully opened the second artery and began to remove the clot. "It's a bleeder!" he called out to everyone at the table. "I need suction, more clamps – another pair of hands; _hurry_!" His well-trained team rallied around their patient with swift, efficient movements. They kept moving without pause or interruption, even when the line on the monitor went flat.

_Jaime's mind gave her the picture of the medical team working so diligently to save her, and this time, she saw the monitor. When she opened her eyes to make it go away she was no longer surprised to see the boy and girl squaring off on the playground. She wondered how, if she was back there on the operating table (dying?), her tiny alter ego could be meeting such a drastic, crushing end so early in life._

_Suddenly, in a moment of true clarity, Jaime understood. It was bizarre, it seemed impossible, but she knew with complete certainty it was true: if she didn't find a way to stop the fight, calm the children and keep 'little Jaime' from running in front of that car, then she – the Jaime on the operating table, the one Steve was praying for with his entire being at that very moment – would die._


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three

In the hallway outside the OR, Steve didn't hear when the beep of the monitor turned into a steady, piercing wail, but somehow he _knew_. He abruptly stopped pacing, and his face turned almost as white as Jaime's, as he was seized by an intense, numbing sense of fear.

"What is it, Pal?" Oscar probed gently, sensing his friend's distress.

"She's in trouble," he answered, his voice and expression distant. "They're...we're...losing her."

For the first time in decades, Oscar had no idea what to say. Steve and Jaime's connection was a powerful one, and Steve seemed so _sure_. "Jaime's in good hands," was all he could manage.

Steve nodded wordlessly, already deep in prayer.

- - -

_Jaime moved directly beside her childhood counterparts, scrambling to sort things out. If she failed, would it simply mean she would die, or would it alter the future of everyone she'd ever come in contact with? As the argument began again, Jaime knew she had no time to ponder. Ready or not, she __**had **__to do something._

_"Hey, guys," she said casually, "it's just a couple of shoes..." Neither child seemed to hear her. **Now what?** she wondered. If they didn't feel her touching them, couldn't hear her when she spoke and she was unable to physically restrain 'little Jaime', what the hell was she supposed to do? Frustrated beyond belief, she kicked the nearby sandbox with her (floating) foot. She barely glanced down, because of course nothing would happen._

_Except, something did happen. The sand moved just slightly, as though a tiny wisp of a breeze had passed over it, but it was enough. Lying in the sandbox (where Steven had dropped them and lost them, even though he'd never admit it) were a pair of black Mary Jane doll shoes. _

_"Hey, look!" she called to the kids. **Damn! **They couldn't hear her. Somehow, she scooped up the shoes and carried them over to where the argument was coming to a head. _

_"Steven Austin, you give them back or I'll never speak to you again!"_

_Before Steven could open his mouth to answer, Jaime opened her hand and one of the doll shoes fell to the ground between the children. Steven saw it first and his eyes grew wide. Where had it come from...space? Shrugging, he picked it up and handed it to his little friend. "Here's one," he told her. "I'll help you look for the other one – c'mon."_

_Jaime sighed in silent relief as the kids ran onto the playground and away from the street. She had only moments to savor the victory before she was yanked insistently back into darkness._

_- - - _

Rudy stepped back from the table having done the impossible once again. He smiled, the tension draining rapidly, barely noticing when the assistant reached over to wipe the sweat beads from his brow. He took one more long look at the monitors and was satisfied. "Ok – she's stable," he said with a happy sigh. "Let's get her closed and sutured." The activity was much less frantic now, but equally as efficient. The main differences were the once-again steady beep of the monitor and the smiles that could be read above the surgical masks, in every pair of eyes on the team.

Out in the hallway, Steve could also notice a change. The icy fingers of panic and loss had released their grip on his heart, and he could breathe easily again. Oscar noticed his change in demeanor immediately, and shot him a questioning look, not wanting to intrude again into his personal thoughts.

"She's ok," Steve exulted, sinking into a chair. "They got her back."

Oscar didn't ask how he knew this with such certainty, but he had no doubt Steve was right. He had just taken the chair next to his tired friend when they both jumped back to their feet as the big double doors swung open. Rudy emerged, removing his mask, and gave the news before the two men could ask. "That is one tough lady. She'll be just fine."

"Rudy, thank you," Steve said, his voice brimming with emotion. "How soon can I see her?"

"They'll be taking her upstairs in a few minutes. If you'd like to wait in my office, someone will find you as soon as she's settled."

Once she'd been nestled into her hospital bed, Jaime began the slow, steady ascent back to reality. Steve stayed by her side, fueled by love and strong coffee, throughout the night and into the next morning, rejoicing at the gradual return of color to the face he loved like no other.

Two shifts of nurses stopped in every hour to check on Jaime and to bring Steve more coffee before leaving him to his private, adoring vigil. They checked their patient's status conscientiously, but somehow no one noticed that Jaime's left hand remained firmly closed, as though she was holding a tiny object tightly within her grasp.

- - -


	4. Epilogue

Epilogue

That morning, a few minutes before noon, Jaime quietly opened her eyes. "Mornin', Beautiful," Steve whispered, his fingertips brushing the hair from her eyes and lingering to caress her cheek. Jaime smiled weakly but radiantly at him, and he stayed perched on the edge of the bed, speaking to her softly as she slowly regained her senses.

"Steve...can I ask you a really weird question?" Jaime began, once she was finally 'all there'.

"Anything you want, Sweetheart."

"When we were kids, right around the time we met..." _God, how do I say this without sounding like a crazy person? _she wondered to herself. _Might as well just spill it. _"Steve...did you ever swipe the shoes off one of my dolls?"

He blushed (at least, the Colonel Steve Austin dignified version of blushing) and took a second to collect himself. "Where on Earth did _that _come from?"

"Did you?" Jaime persisted.

"You must've had some pretty weird dreams under that anesthetic -"

"Steve...?"

Steve gave a little chuckle, shaking his head in amusement. "Yeah, I guess I did. Haven't thought about that since – well, since we were kids."

"What happened to the shoes?"

"Well, I sort of...lost them," he admitted, hedging just like the little boy who'd dropped the shoes.

"And you never found them again?" Jaime persisted.

"You know, it was the weirdest thing. You were so upset that you threatened to never speak to me again. Then all of a sudden, there was a shoe, right on the ground by my feet. Maybe it fell out of a hole in my pocket."

Jaime smiled reassuringly at him. "Maybe it did." Under the blanket, her left hand quietly fingered its contents: one tiny, perfect black Mary Jane.

END


End file.
